


New Magick

by Sereg



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, BAMF Harry, But Don't Worry I'll Have Plenty Of Feels And Romance Too, But That'll Be A Bit Later, Comedy, Confident Harry, Dark, Eventual Smut, F/M, Happy, Happy Ending, I'm An Action Freak, M/M, Meaning LOTS Of Fighting, Romance, Sappy, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-10-24 02:46:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17696156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sereg/pseuds/Sereg
Summary: The wizarding world is recovering from the events with Voldemort, but the world at large is in for a surprise when aliens attack. However, before we can get to that juicy good shit, our beloved Harry Potter has some extra growing up to do. Chosen by two of the most powerful elder gods to be their successor, and only one of them being able to take him under their wing, things are bound to be complicated and awkward. Add to that the introduction of über gorgeous and distracting Thor, what else could Harry ask for? Perhaps, not a life of chaos?...meh, where's the fun in that?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first ever fanfic. I'm currently writing it with my boyfriend, who actually started this story about three-ish years ago, but only managed to write up three chapters. After much coercion I finally got him to agree to have us both work on it, and to change things up a bit. Story line wise, all of the events up through the final Harry Potter book/movie are the same, save for the bit about the 19 years later, but that's about where it stops. To spare my sanity I figured it would be easier to not deal with the complications of a divorce and child custody and whatnot. My apologies if you're a huge fan of Harry and Ginny, quite frankly I'm a huge fan too, but I don't want to deal with that headache. We will be incorporating the attack on Manhattan from the first Avengers Movie, but things will unfold a bit differently. Also, we're introducing some original characters, just to give it a bit more personal flare. Hope you all enjoy. 
> 
> P.S. By the way, we have no idea how long this story will go, but I do have a bad habit of never doing anything simple.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't claim rights to any of the Harry Potter or Marvel universes etc. If I did, I'd be a much happier man.

It was early autumn; the crisp morning air filling the streets of New Orleans. The pale blue sky painted with sporadic white streaks of clouds allowing various chinks of sunlight to rain down upon the bustling town. The morning atmosphere filled with the energy of the lively and eccentric city; the vibrant people already starting about their business, either heading to work, visiting with friends, window shopping, or simply enjoying the autumn weather. A cascade of smells and sounds wafted through the air as people beset the weathered and traveled roads, in search of some new shop or store they hadn’t seen or visited; a stand or restaurant they hadn’t tried regardless of how often they traveled the same roads.

Amongst the many streets sat a simple bakery, and sitting at one of the many tables set up outside the small building was a woman. She was reading a sappy romance novel while eating a fresh buttery croissant. The woman appeared to be in her late twenties, had fair skin, shoulder length dark auburn hair, and stark blue eyes. She wore casual attire, from a simple black leather jacket, a plain white blouse, blue jeans and black sneakers. The woman was beautiful, and in most places, her features would earn her many stares or questions. However, in this city, with their eclectic mixture, hardly anyone gave her a second glance, which is exactly how she wanted it.

She sat relaxed; legs crossed, the croissant held in her left hand, now half finished, while she held the book in her right; using her thumb and pinky she would flip the pages. In that moment, she would appear to be completely engrossed in the book, her mind shutting out the whole world around her. But nothing truly ever escaped this woman’s notice. As such, she greeted the man that had just walked up behind her without hesitation or faltering in her reading, “What do you want Grenth?” She asked, her raspy voice colored with skepticism and familiarity. She knew this man, and knew him well.

A deep earthy chuckle escaped the man’s lips as he strolled around the table and sat down across from the woman, “Warm and welcoming as always I see.” He replied, the corner of his mouth lifting a little. The man was handsome; jet black hair that hung in waves, brushing his shoulders, light brown eyes and rugged tan chiseled features. He wore a black suit, with a black shirt and tie; a hard look to pull off, but it fit him. Matched with the air of confidence and strength, he could easily be described as intimidating, but at the moment he held a charming smile with bright eyes, “No simple hello for an old friend? I’m hurt Mira.” He said with a slight pout, tilting his head a little; face pulling into a grin as the woman stuck him with a deadpan stare before blinking and returning her gaze to the book.

Grenth sat back in his chair relaxed, “Can’t two old friends have a simple chat without there needing to be an ulterior motive?” Grenth asked while Mira finished off the last of her croissant, a chuckle building up as she finally put the book down and gave Grenth her full attention, a smirk on her lips now as she said, “Sure, except, that’s not the case is it? You know,” She continued, not giving Grenth time to respond, her eyes shifting skyward before settling back on the man, “I’ve always liked that about you, your humor. You’re funny, so funny.” All hints of humor left her voice and features as she finished, piercing Grenth with an icy gaze. Grenth simply sighed in response, waiting for what he knew would come next.

“If I remember correctly, I believe my exact words to you the last time we spoke were, ‘Don’t show your gorgeous face around me again unless it’s to apologize’. And yet, I haven’t heard a single sorry from you yet. So, what’s wrong with this picture?” There was a tense silence between them that lasted about ten seconds, but for anyone that would have been watching, it would have felt like an eternity; such was the history between these two. Grenth stayed silent, knowing that Mira didn’t actually want him to talk, because she already knew what he would say, she just wanted to be heard, “How many times are we going to go through this? I create something I love, only for you to end up destroying it. Like Atlantis for example.”

“Ugh,” Grenth sighed in response, rolling his eyes, unable to stop himself, “Atlantis again? Really woman? If you remember correctly, I actually have apologized for that. Many times over in fact.” making a small gesture with his hand as he spoke, “It was a genuine accident, I didn’t actually intend for the entire civilization to be wiped out.”

“But they were.” She cut in, sitting forward in her chair, “And all because they disrespected you. You killed an entire civilization; one that had the opportunity to advance this world’s technology by millennia mind you, simply because you didn’t like how they treated you. And you’ve done it time and time again. When is it going to be enough?” She said, sitting back in her chair, waiting for his response. All traces of humor were gone now from Grenth as well.

“You’re one to talk.” He said, making Mira’s brows twitch upward, “Remember the Black Plague?” He asked. It was Mira’s turn now to roll her eyes and sigh “You know I’m still blamed for that to this day, right? And I actually had nothing to do with it. My reapers had to work overtime for damn near a millennium thanks to that little _prank_ of yours.” Grenth made air quotes as he said prank, “And all because you didn’t like how they were treating magic.”

Mira had become flustered, waving her hand as she said, “What. They were treating anyone and everything that had magic like they were a leper. What did you expect me to do?”

“Exactly.” Grenth interjected, “They disrespect me and I kill off a couple of civilizations in uncontrolled anger. But they disrespect _you_ ,” He said, nodding his head towards Mira in emphasis, “And you curse almost the whole damn world to suffer a fate worse than death for several centuries.” They stared at each other in quiet anger for several seconds before they both finally sighed, realizing it was pointless to keep arguing over such ancient events.

Grenth was the first to speak, “Look, I didn’t come here to argue with you Mira, I really didn’t. And I _am_ sorry, for everything.” His apology was sincere, and Mira could tell; her features and posture relaxing at the sound of the words she’d wanted to hear for many centuries now. She honestly missed her friend. No other god understood her quite like Grenth did; no other god treated her quite like Grenth did.

“Thank you.” She said quietly, slowly bringing her eyes up to rest on that handsome face she could never forget, and never wanted to. An awkward, yet not entirely uncomfortable silence settled over them while the two ancient gods tried to figure out how best to proceed. Though she had wanted to hear those words for so long, a part of her had begun believing she might never hear them. And at the same time, though she was loathed to admit it, she also knew that her curse on the humans was wrong, and that she had overreacted.

However, though she desperately wanted to believe that this apology was all she needed, to believe that things could go back to how they were; genuinely happy though she was, Mira couldn’t completely rid herself of the deep-rooted anger she’d built up over the centuries. Turning her head, she glanced at the passerby, breathing deeply through her nose before closing her eyes and sighing, “But I don’t think I can forgive you just yet.” She said, drawing her eyes back up to meet his, her pale blue eyes turning icy.

“It’s not because I don’t believe you’re serious, and I do agree my initial reaction back then was a bit…overzealous. But I honestly don’t think my reaction was much more grievous than yours have been, if for nothing else than the simple fact that _I_ didn’t wipe out _your_ potential successor.” Mira said, unintentionally causing the air around them to drop several degrees in response to her anger. Grenth said nothing, choosing to stay silent; turning his head slightly away and releasing a long quiet sigh of shame.

Grenth’s gaze wandered for a few seconds before returning to Mira. It was something he would never let himself live down. Immortality was _vastly_ overrated, anybody that had managed to make it past a century or two without much difficulty would tell you the same thing. Multiply that several times and you were looking at the typical lifespan of most minor gods. Multiply that several times over and you were approaching the average lifespan of the major gods, frequently hitting ten-thousand years. And once you approached the eldest gods, lifetimes would easily last twenty-thousand years or more.

To live so long was only viewed as a blessing by those fortunate enough to have fleeting lives. For what is a meaningful life, if you haven’t someone precious to experience it with? Such rare lifespans breed equally rare companions; friends, allies, or lovers that could truly understand the emptiness of such long-lasting life. One of the most cherished moments of an elder god’s life was finding the creature that could potentially replace them in their role. It was truly an indescribable moment when an elder god would find their successor, no words could express the emotions that would course through them at the discovery.

Likewise, the sheer guilt a god would feel at cheating an elder god out of their successor could also not be described, because they knew; would understand all too well the depression of being so close to reaching the realm of the elder gods, only to have to start over. It was easily one of the most regrettable moments in all his life. And even if by some miracle Mira could actually bring herself to completely forgive him, he didn’t think he could ever truly forgive himself.

“I know.” He said, his eyes soft and sad, “And I wouldn’t blame you if you never truly forgave me for that. I’ve never intentionally wished you pain Mira, I hope you know that. In all my years, there have been very few things that I’ve regretted, but none have I regretted more than taking the life of the one you had chosen as your successor.” Grenth watched as Mira’s eyes softened while he spoke, the air around them warming back up to its original temperature.

“That’s why I’ve done my best to leave the wizards alone, and have even attempted to help them out along the way.” He started, but was cut off before he could continue.

“Is that why you gave those brothers those items?” Mira asked quickly, eyes widening slightly and a single brow twitching in wonder. It was very rare for elder gods to give powerful gifts to mortals, but even more so for Grenth, at least for pure gifts sake. It wasn’t completely uncommon for Grenth to give gifts that turned out to be less helpful than expected, simply for mischievous means to entertain himself. Which is why when Mira had learned of the three items he had given to the Peverell brothers, she had been less than happy, believing them to be meant to cause her more trouble.

“Yes.” He responded with a small smile, the smile faltering a little as he continued, “But that didn’t really turn out how I expected. I thought they could handle the power of the items, but I guess I was too eager. I truly believed I had finally found a worthy successor amongst those three. Ignotus seemed the most promising, but ultimately failed. I had thought that the wizards had evolved enough to overcome the lust for power and vengeance that so many mortals so easily give in to.” Grenth took a deep breath, releasing it with a defeated sigh.

“I do still admire the wizards though. I think that out of all the creatures and civilizations you’ve created, the wizards show the most promise. I feel like they actually possess the greatest potential to produce a successor for not just you, but for myself as well.” He said with a knowing smile to Mira.

This all honestly caught Mira off guard. Out of all of the eldest gods, none had been in their role longer than Grenth. Quite frankly, Mira had never known anyone else in Grenth’s role than Grenth himself. It fit him so well that she and most other gods tended to forget that he too would have a successor. It had never crossed her mind before, that Grenth had never even once, in all the time she’d known him, believed he’d found a successor. To continue to play the role he had been for as long as he had was far more exhausting and depressing than she could possibly imagine. Realizing that now, she firmly believed Grenth would never willingly harm another elder god’s successor. She felt like such a fool.

“So, the Peverell brothers.” She started, leaning forward in her chair, “Do you actually mean that you thought any one of them could have been a potential successor for you? Especially you?” She added with a motion.

“Yes,” He replied with a small chuckle, “It’s like I said, I admire the wizards. I know that you first gave the humans magic as a means to better protect themselves. But it’s more than that. There’s something special about them, and I don’t just mean the magic of course. After all, our roles,” He said, motioning between himself and Mira, “Are some of the most complex and difficult roles to fill in all of creation. I can’t quite put my hand on it, but I know it’s there.”

“Do you mean…there’s another?”

“Yes.” He said with a small smirk, “Unprecedented isn’t it? Not only did I have three potential successors at once, but twice encountered the possibility with your wizards. Never before has that happened with any other race, or any other god.”

Mira could hardly believe what she was hearing, and he was completely right, it had never happened before, and definitely not for Grenth. After all, what were the odds? “It seems, my old friend,” Mira started with a small smile, “That fortune has finally smiled on us both.”

“So, it’s true then.” Grenth said, happy to see that most of the negative emotions had began to dissipate around them. It almost felt like he and Mira could talk like they used to so long ago. “You’ve also found a successor.”

“Yeah.” She responded with a warm smile. “It’s been some time, but I think I’ve finally found someone that could do it.”

“That makes me very happy Mira. You deserve it.” The two of them simply enjoyed each other’s company for the next few minutes, catching up on the centuries they’d spent apart, and how their search for a successor had developed. Many things went in to finding and picking a successor for most elder gods, but for the two of them, things were a bit more complex. Not just anyone could fill the role of Magick or Death. It was no small miracle that Death had found a potential successor, but for Magick to also find one within the same species? It was unheard of.

As the day was approaching noon, curiosity was gnawing at Grenth, “So I have been wondering.” He started, making Mira look up from her fifth half-finished croissant. He swore the woman was addicted to those things, “If you don’t mind my asking, exactly who is it that you’ve chosen to be your successor?”

“Oh, you would love him.” She said around her bite of croissant, a nice smile on her face, “He’s still pretty young by many standards; however, he’s been through a significant number of ordeals already, and has managed to surpass my expectations time and time again.”

“Really?” Grenth said, honestly surprised. Very few gods could ever give him a run for his money in the hard ass category. He was extremely meticulous with his work, and his scrutiny was unparalleled. In all his years, only Mira could come close. So for her to give someone, especially a mortal, such praise meant they had to be special, maybe even as special as the one he’d chosen.

“Yeah. I’ve tested him much more thoroughly than any others before. So much so, that I honestly feel a little bad.”

Grenth arched a worried brow, it wasn’t uncommon for Mira to go a little overboard on her tests for successors, but he’d never heard her admit to feeling bad about what she put them through. Though it was necessary to test them to ensure they could handle the responsibilities that went with their roles, Mira always seemed to go above and beyond, “Jeez woman, what exactly did you put the poor thing through?”

“Oh like you can talk. You know your tests are always worse than mine, even on my best day.” She responded. Grenth shrugged in admittance, “However, I was worried for a bit that I might have gone overboard; didn’t really expect the events I’d set in motion to develop so darkly, so quickly. But, he managed to overcome it.”

“That’s good. And from what you’ve said, I think I _would_ really like him.” He said, taking a genuine interest in this person, “So, what’s his name?” He asked before taking a swig of his Mountain Dew.

“Harry James Potter.”

At the mention of that name, Grenth’s eyes grew wide and he practically choked on the drink, nearly spitting it out. Concern crossed Mira’s face, “Grenth, are you okay?” She asked, reaching a hand across the table before it was waved away by the man.

It took him a few seconds to recover his composure, not really knowing how best to navigate what he knew would be a tricky conversation. And after a few moments of deliberation he realized that there was no easy way to go about it, “My dear,” He started, his uncomfortable demeanor setting Mira on edge, “I really don’t know how to easily say this. But let me start by saying that…It really was completely unintentional. I give you my word I had no idea.”

“Grenth, you didn’t…” Mira started, her body frozen as the worst thoughts flew through her mind, believing that once again, her chosen successor had been killed by Death.

“No, he’s not dead.” Grenth said quickly, holding a hand up as he knew that was where her mind would first go. His answer caused confusion to cover her face, not knowing what else could have possibly made him say what he did.

Mira’s brows both furrowed in confusion, “Well then, what…” She started, then trailed off, not understanding.

“The name,” Grenth said, leaning forward and lacing his fingers together as he watched Mira soak in what he said, “The name of the one I have chosen as my successor.” He could watch as the realization began to finally set in, her eyes widening slightly every second, “His name, is Harry James Potter.”

The silence that lingered on for seconds, felt like eternity before Mira finally broke out of her daze affirming the truth, “We both chose the same person as our successor.”

“Yeah.” Death said flatly.

“Fuck.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a small miracle. I actually managed to get the next chapter out in a week. Woo! I don't expect that to happen too frequently though. Hope you all enjoy :)
> 
> Also, if you're all curious or wondering who I took inspiration from for Mira and Grenth, I'm imagining Emma Stone for Mira, and Luke Evans for Grenth.

It was early morning, the sun barely peeping over the horizon; the residents of Godric’s Hollow either still sleeping or beginning their morning routine. You could hear the buzz of the city in the distance as more and more people began their day, the gentle hum of the small village and nearby nature interrupted only by the sound of a faint pop. The pop, the sound of Harry apparating into the village before making the familiar route to his parent’s house, the same house that had been destroyed by Voldemort when he had just been a baby; there it still laid in ruin, the community leaving it as a memorial to the sacrifice his parents had made against a tyrant and monster. Before the house sat a sign detailing the events that had transpired there, and written on the sign were comments and words of encouragement from numerous people that had visited this same location over the years.

Even to this day, four years after the battle at Hogwarts, Harry still felt a warmth in his heart at seeing the many words of hope and wishes of success from people he had likely never met. There were actual graves for his parents that he could visit, and he sometimes did, but for Harry, though the remnants of the house looked like little more than a pile of rubble and wood; where many would see nothing but destruction and death, for him it gave him a sense of pride.

Yes, his parents had died horrible deaths in this very house, all to spare his life. It was indeed something he hated thinking upon. But it was also their moment of greatest triumph, the single moment where Voldemort was firmly set on his personal path of destruction. The moment that tyrant appeared in front of this house, was the moment he sealed his own demise. And thinking about that always filled Harry with an immense feeling of pride. His parents had been true hero’s, in every sense of the word. Of course, there wasn’t a day that passed that Harry wished they could have survived and lived along with him, no other desire ever came close to that for him, not even once and that would never change. But at least there was no doubt in his mind that they were amazing people; indescribably brave, abundantly loving, they were some of the best parents anyone could ask for. Harry was beyond proud to be there son.

Visiting this place always filled him with a sense of calm and peace when he needed it. And lately, he found himself needing it more and more. It wasn’t as if his life was in shambles or anything, he had a good job as an Auror; even received a promotion recently to Head Auror in the Ministry, mostly thanks to his battle prowess and knowledge. He had always been decent at dueling, but thanks to his constant run-ins with Death Eaters and fight against Voldemort, he had become something of a prodigy. And as it turned out, he actually rather enjoyed simple duels, especially without the fear of actually dying.

And though he and Ginny had broken up a couple years ago, they were still good friends, and the same could be said of him with the entire Weasley family. Though they had never adopted him, Harry had come to think of them as his family. He loved them all dearly, and couldn’t have asked to meet better people when he was so young. Likewise, he was still great friends with Hermione who had become one of the greatest Transfiguration professors in all of Hogwarts’ history, McGonagall, who was the new Headmistress, couldn’t be more proud.

He did love Ginny, even to this day, but things just weren’t working out. With his job as an Auror, his time away from home could be extensive at times; there had been more than one occasion where he wouldn’t come home for more than two days. And it wasn’t just Harry, Ginny had landed a position as a Chaser with the Holyhead Harpies, and she excelled at it. But it wasn’t easy on relationships to be involved in professional sports. With her weekly practice schedules, pre-game rallies, tours and tournaments, Ginny was home almost less than Harry. In fact, there were many days during every month that their flat was completely unoccupied.

The day finally came when they would have ‘The Talk’, and it honestly went about as well as anyone could ask a break-up to go. Neither of them were angry at, or blamed the other for what had happened. Both Harry and Ginny loved what they did for a living, but also loved each other enough to know that it wasn’t fair to either of them to try to keep their relationship going when the most time they might get to spend with each other during the week was maybe one full day, two if they were exceedingly lucky.

Neither of them held resentment for the other, and whenever they saw each other whether it be in passing, or when Harry would visit the Weasley’s Burrow, they would still greet with warm smiles and embraces. Molly wasn’t too happy to hear of their break up, having genuinely hoped to make Harry an actual member of the family. She had also been afraid at first that Harry might be too ashamed to visit since he and Ginny had broken up; however, Ginny quickly nipped that fear in the bud, telling Harry that he better still visit, and that if he made her mother cry because he didn’t come around, she would hex the hell out of him.

Harry knew better than to not take her promise seriously, and knew damn well she could back up her warning. He still remembered the chill that ran down his spine the first time he saw her reduce a training dummy to ash with a single spell. Coupled with the times they had fought together against Voldemort’s forces, witnessing how well she handled herself in a fight, Ginny was the _last_ person he ever wanted to provoke, or get into an actual fight with.

So it wasn’t his personal life, though he was single, he was content at the moment. He had a successful job as an Auror, and enjoyed his job; the feeling he would derive from taking another criminal off the streets. He loved, and was loved by all his friends and family, and the wizarding world was experiencing true peace for the first time in many years. Why then? Why was he starting to get this feeling of restlessness so often?

Harry couldn’t explain it, but it felt kind of like the calm before the storm. He kept shrugging it off as simply being paranoid, but who could really blame him? For most of his life, when things seemed too good to be true, it’s usually because they were, and he was doing what he always did, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He hated it, but no matter what he did, he just couldn’t get rid of the chill that would creep up his spine whenever he would think, _Things can’t possibly stay like this for long._ And he hated himself for thinking that. It felt almost like he was _asking_ for trouble; chaos, destruction, and death.

His life had already been drenched in chaos, why the hell would he actually ask for more? That was crazy. He should be beyond ecstatic at the current peace the wizarding world was experiencing, that it had deserved to have for so long. He was so disappointed with the general nature of his frequent thoughts lately that he’d begun keeping more to himself, and during his free time, would visit this very spot. Harry would sometimes even find himself standing, staring at the house, and saying absolutely nothing for hours. He knew it was extremely weird, and many of the villagers had more than likely thought him crazy at this point and started some rumors.

However, though Harry genuinely thought himself more than a little paranoid about everything, he had learned long ago to not completely ignore his gut, which had proven to be a bit more intelligent than his brain a few times over in the past. And due to that, he had actually made a trip back to Hogwarts, and under the guise of wishing just to visit with Hagrid, made his way back into the Forbidden Forrest where he combed the ground over in search of the Resurrection Stone. He had dropped it before Voldemort had sent what he believed to be the final killing blow to Harry.

He honestly never intended to go looking for it again, but some unseen force was compelling him to make sure that all three Hollows were in his possession. The search had taken him considerable time, but finally Harry succeeded in locating the tiny stone; which in four years hadn’t budged an inch, but had been completely taken over by weeds and roots. Thankfully that moment still stood fresh in his mind, and he was able to retrace his steps to the exact spot he’d been standing in when Voldemort had shot the spell at him.

Harry put his hand into his pocket, feeling the smooth surface of the stone. He often kept it with him, but had never used it since first dropping it in the forest. He would sometimes find himself wishing to see his parents and lost loved ones once more, as was only natural, but Harry knew better. The dead should be left that way. If anything, simply carrying the stone with him made him feel at least a little closer to those he’d lost; each brush against the stone recalling a moment with his lost friends and family; a smiling face, a shared laugh, a loving embrace, the ethereal forms of the deceased surrounding him the one time he had used the stone, giving him probably the most cherished memory of his life.

No one knew that he actually had the stone with him, believing that he honestly didn’t remember where he had dropped it. Additionally, no one else knew where he had stashed the wand, and knowing the bloody history of it, the few that knew Harry was the rightful owner of the wand, knew better than to pry; best to let that beast slumber indefinitely. As for the cloak, aside from Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny, no one else alive even knew that Harry owned an invisibility cloak, let alone that it was one of the Hallows. However, when or if anyone else found out, it would be plenty easy to pass off as just another cloak, so he had no qualms about keeping that one just laying around the flat.

Harry honestly believed that there was no real threat of the Hallows finding themselves in the wrong hands. Those that at least knew Harry was in possession of two of the items would rather die than give up that information, and would be hard pressed to tell those secrets without truth serum. And Harry was the last person to go blabbing about it all, so the items were definitely safe. Why then, did he suddenly start feeling like he _had_ to make sure that all three items were in his possession. Surely, wouldn’t it have been safer to leave the stone hidden in the forest? No one had even known he’d had the stone with him; the stone which until he actually spoke the phrase, ‘I’m about to die.’ Had safely been hidden in a Golden Snitch.

It didn’t make any sense to him. All he had to go on was his gut feeling, his gut, which had been pulling him in a dozen different directions lately, making him feel paranoid and depressed when he had absolutely no right to be so. He hated it. But more than that, Harry wanted to know why. Why was his gut so damned determined to make his perfectly happy life hell again?

But then a thought surfaced, _What if they really aren’t safe?_

“What?” Harry quietly said incredulously to himself, placing his hands on the small fence in front of him as if bracing himself to keep standing, “How could they not be safe? Nobody else knows, and I trust those that do completely.” A small portion of his mind wondered if he was actually going crazy, to be standing here actually questioning his own mind and motives.

_But honestly_ , he thought as his face grew more concerned, _What if they really_ aren’t _safe? These three items have caused so many problems, taken so many lives. Is it really enough to simply try and hide them and hope for the best?_

“I need to find a more permanent solution.” Harry said, his eyes sweeping back and forth as if scanning the area in front of him, but not actually seeing any of it.

“I think it’s time I visit an old friend.” He said to himself once more, and without a second thought, the wizard turned on the spot apparating to Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

 

 

 

o0O0o

 

 

 

“How is this even possible?” Mira asked, clearly flustered but managing to keep it together. She couldn’t believe this was happening. By all accounts it should be impossible for any two gods to pick the same individual to one day take their place, and even less possible for gods of their caliber. And yet, here they were, Magick incarnate and Death, two of the most powerful elder gods in all of creation, having chosen a single individual to one day take their place.

“I honestly don’t know Mira, believe me. In all my life I have never seen this happen before. It should theoretically be impossible for two gods, regardless of power and standing to pick the same individual. There are too many variables to take into account that makes an individual a Potential, and even more for them to become our Chosen.” Yes, there were a few times in the past when two or more gods may pick the same individual as a Potential Successor, but by the time they were actually a Chosen Successor, only one god would be able to Claim them. But for Mira and Death, they had already finished their Claiming Tests.

That wasn’t to say that it wasn’t possible for more than one god to test a Potential for the Claiming; the Tests were what was used to determine which god would come to finally Claim them. And only the god whose tests were successfully completed by the Potential would be able to claim them as their Successor. Throughout all of time, never had there been a Successor to officially complete two elder gods’ Claiming Tests. And yet, Harry Potter had.

Both Death and Magick had thoroughly tested and tried him, thrown disaster and chaos at him from every direction, all the while completely unaware of the fact that the other was doing the same. To avoid potential interference from other gods during the Tests, it had been decided eons ago, that it would be impossible for any other gods to know when a god was doing a Claiming, and what Tests they had in store for the Potential. Even gods of their level would be utterly clueless of each other’s involvement.

“It just…It doesn’t make any sense.” She started, clearly losing her composure more and more by the second. Grenth thought she might end up cracking and harming the nearby people. He was prepared to step in, however the next second, Mira snapped her fingers and the two of them were transported to her house in Oregon. It was a large Victorian style home, featuring about five bedrooms from what he could tell, as well as a number of additional rooms including the study which she had just transported them to. It was a spacious room with floor to ceiling shelves adorning two of the four walls, filled with all manner of books. The wall opposite the entrance housed a large window overlooking the enormous redwood trees that surrounded the house.

“Why the redwoods?” Grenth asked as he turned from the window, then sat down in one of the squishy leather chairs set in front of the large mahogany desk, propping one leg up on the other.

“Why not?” Mira replied as she returned the book she had with her to one of the many shelves, “I can think of few places else in the world that are as magical as the redwood forest.” She returned to the desk, sitting down in the chair across from Grenth, swiveling the chair back and forth slowly, a contemplative look on her face as she thought on their dilemma.

“Honestly, I don’t…” She started, before cutting herself off, chewing on her bottom lip as she tapped the desk and then sighed. She turned her questioning eyes to Grenth, only to see he was just as lost as she was. “What are we supposed to do?”

“I’m afraid my dear, that I’m just as lost about this as you are. Anyone would be. This is unprecedented.” Grenth responded, clasping his hands in his lap. “We chose the same individual. Picked him to one day replace us, to finally give us the rest we deserve. We chose him, and tested him. And somehow, through his determination, sheer willpower and love for his friends and family, Harry Potter has managed to do what no other Potential has done.”

“There has to be more to it than that.” Mira added flatly, “We’ve seen it time and again. Harry is far from the first Successor to possess those qualities, being the qualities that are frequently desired in a Successor. So there has to be more.”

“You are indeed correct Mira.” Grenth said with a nod, “Those qualities are frequently the basis of a god’s choice in replacement. At least for the noble and good-natured ones.” He added with a small wave of his hand, “So then what else?” He said, getting up from his chair and walking back over to the window.

“What exactly is it? What trait? What quality?” He stared out the window for a moment, marveling at the sheer size of the large trees, “Exactly who, and what is Harry Potter?”

“We both knew he was special when we chose him, that much was clear. But I think we drastically underestimated _how_ special. The ones we choose to replace us never have any clue as to the position we’ve placed them in until our tests are complete and we’re ready to approach them. They’re completely ignorant of everything, and cosmic law forbids any outward influence during the entire process. So no one and nothing could have tipped him off or assisted him in any way.” Said Mira as she began laying out the foundations of the Claiming, trying to determine what they had missed.

“That, and it would be impossible for him to somehow determine the events in his life were merely tests designed by us. To him and all Potentials, they are nothing more than the hardships of life; struggles to overcome, and grow as a result. Unless you saw something I missed, I think it’s safe to say there were no clues given to Harry to make him aware.” Grenth said as he paced back over to the chair, this time standing behind it.

“No, there were no clues given to him. No one around him had any clue what was actually going on, or possessed any pertinent knowledge on our Claiming. Hell, most of them have little to no knowledge about our actual existence, let alone the whole Successor ordeal. And from beginning to end, regardless of cosmic law, there was no attempted interference from any source. If there was any outward influence, it was from something beyond us.”

“Now that would be something.” Grenth added, making Mira arch a brow in response, “There are very few sources in all the cosmos that exist beyond the breadth of our power. If any of them _did_ in fact interfere somehow, I shudder to think what it could mean. The ramifications would likely be cataclysmic.” They sat quietly for a moment before he continued, now pacing the room.

“I think we can comfortably rule out the last scenario. It’s not unlikely that we would have sensed at least _something_ if there had been interference. I honestly believe the source is at least a little more mundane.”

“The items?”

“Perhaps, but doubtful.” Grenth replied, continuing his slow pace, “Though the Hallows would undoubtedly have helped him through the Tests, the only one he continually had in his possession was the cloak, and that would have scarcely made a difference. And certainly not enough to help him pass both of our Tests.”

“Then it circles back to Harry.” Mira said, getting up from her chair to move in front of the desk and sit down on its edge, “As hard as it is to grasp, somehow through the events leading up to our Tests, he had managed to gain something. Some significant trait or quality. And this aspect, whatever it may be, allowed him to shoulder the weight of both our tests and complete them.”

“That’s what it looks like.” Grenth said as he sat back down in the chair, “At least at first glance. I’m hard pressed to believe that to be the entire reason, but I think there’s something more important that we need to focus on.”

“Where we go from here.” Mira said, earning a nod from Grenth.

“We don’t really have the time to waste trying to uncover this mystery right now. We need to figure out exactly how to proceed. And seeing as there have been no other cases like this, we have no real idea of the best way to sort this out.” It was quiet for several moments while the two of them thought on the best solution, until finally Mira spoke.

“I really want you to finally have your Successor Grenth. You honestly deserve one the most, out of anyone. You’ve been Death for longer than I can remember, and honestly the role suits you extremely well…” She stopped, eyes wandering down as she tried to usher her thoughts, “There has never been a Death like you, no one to command the kind of respect you do with nothing more than your presence. To radiate power and authority, but still retain the ability to be uncommonly kind and understanding. It’s not fair that you’ve been stuck in your role for so long, longer than anyone. Even though I don’t think you outright hate your role, it’s still not fair. I know you desperately want Harry to be your successor, and I know without a doubt that he’d be an excellent replacement. Why else would you have chosen him?”

Through her small speech, Grenth kept his eyes locked on her. He appreciated everything she was saying, more than she knew. It was true, he honestly didn’t mind the role of Death, and he would like to think he was pretty good at it. He tried to be fair and impartial to everyone, the fundamental qualities required of anyone in his role, and the cornerstone of the entire idea of Death. However, it had been a very long time since he had taken over as Successor to the last Death, longer than he’d ever like to admit. He was tired, and worn. As a god, there are very few things you ever could want for, and as an elder god, fewer still. You have everything you could ever ask for, and none of the need for the simple material wants or desires of mortals.

As an elder god, if you need or want something, you get it, and very little can even attempt to stand in your way. So when the time comes where an elder god actually desires something significant, it would typically take no less than the possible destruction of the universe to dissuade them from that desire. And as time continues, the strength of the god’s resolve only increases. So for Grenth, who’s only real desire for several millennia now has been to find a proper replacement, he had decided some time ago that absolutely nothing would stand in the way of him finally obtaining a Successor. However, the fact that at the moment, the wrinkle in his plans was Mira, made things a bit more difficult. He loved Mira, and respected her immensely. Were it any other god, he wouldn’t have hesitated to declare Harry to be his Successor alone, and demand that they back off.

However, because it _was_ Mira, and he had already cheated her out of a couple successors, he had been keeping himself calm and collected this whole time. Grenth still had no intention of easily relinquishing his claim to Harry, but at the same time, he didn’t want to completely deny Mira her claim to Harry either. After all he had completed both Mira and his Tests, so they both genuinely held equal claim to Harry.

They had to come up with a compromise. But what could it be? Neither had past experiences to use in deciding the best action, they just had to come up with something. A fair way of deciding who in the end would be the one to take Harry under their wing and train him to one day take their place.

“I appreciate that Mira, I really do.” He finally said after a long pause, “However, it’s not fair to you for me to take immediate claim of him. He completed both of our Tests, so that gives us both equal footing. Clearly, the boy can’t take over both of our roles though. So we have to come up with a tie breaker of sorts.”

Hearing this caused Mira to perk up a bit, “Really? Did you have anything in mind?”

“Maybe, but I’m not entirely sure yet. It could be a contest of sorts, or something as simple as asking him to choose. That of course would be the simplest method, albeit the one to be the most awkward for sure.” Mira laughed a little at that.

“I think that’s an understatement. Not to mention he still has no clue about everything we had put him through. It’s never an easy task to inform a Successor about the Tests. It’s never taken easily from what I’ve heard, and it can often take considerable time for them to decide to accept or reject the role they’ve been chosen for. And quite frankly, what do you think the odds are of Harry easily accepting either of our roles?”

It was an unfortunate, but true fact that even after everything; the time to find and chose someone to be a Potential Successor, the time after that to initiate the Claiming Tests, and then the time after for the individual to ultimately decide whether they wanted to accept or reject the role they had been chosen for. All of this could easily span decades or even centuries depending on the race or species. If after everything, the one they had chosen decided to reject the role, they would have to start all over; forcing them to accept the role was impossible. Which is why gods took such care in deciding who might one day replace them.

“Hard to say.” Grenth responded, “It would be a lot to ask of anyone to even understand, let alone forgive the tasks we put them through, and even more to accept it. I’m sure he’ll hate us at first, maybe even despise us. I can only hope he can come to see why.”

“I think we can all agree that we wished there were easier ways to go about this. We aren’t, all of us inherently evil or cruel, but our Tests we put them through say otherwise. We may not be the ones to personally take the life of their friends or loved ones, or put them through horrible pain and suffering, but we are the ones that set the events in motion.” She said, getting up from her spot on the desk and walking over to the window. Mira opened it, letting a breeze enter the room carrying the deep earthy scents of the forest mixed with the salt of the nearby sea.

“I really wish there was an easier way.” She said quietly.

“Yes,” Grenth said as he got up from his chair, walked over and leaned against the wall next to the window and looked at Mira, his arms crossed as he continued, “We all wish there was an easier way. To determine what someone is really made of through hardship and pain has never been desirable. We’ve all wished for better ways. But the fact remains, our lives aren’t all that splendid.

“We frequently have tough decisions to make, to weigh the value of lives and pick one over another. Few choices in life are harder. Despite the individual god’s role, we all deal with life and death at some point. So only those that can truly appreciate the value of life, and understand the gravity of making the hard choice can play our role.”

“I know.” Mira replied, then sighed as she looked back to Grenth, “So the question remains, what do we do? How do we decide which one of us trains Harry? How do we come up with a tie breaker?”

“I actually have an idea.” Grenth said with a small smirk, causing Mira to twitch a brow in curiosity, “I think it’s time we visit an old friend.” He could see Mira trying to figure out who he was talking about. It didn’t take long as he watched realization dawn on her.

She gave a small chuckle as the corner of her mouth twitched in a smirk, “This should be fun.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy hell, I'm amazed. I actually managed to get this beast of a chapter out in a week. And I do mean beast. I personally love long chapters, and I hope you all do too, cause this one's over 11K words. I was originally planning on having this chapter be like the last one, have part of it be from Harry's pov, and then part of it from Mira and Grenth's, but that didn't happen. I wanted to keep my promise and get this chapter out by the end of this week, and continuing on with a section for Mira and Grenth meant it would take much longer. I hope you all enjoy reading this one as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Please feel free to comment and let me know what you think, I love hearing from people.
> 
> P.S.: There is some fairly graphic violence and light torture near the end of this chapter. You have been warned.

With a quiet pop Harry appeared on the steps of number 12 Grimmauld Place. He had already placed wards ahead of time to insure he could apparate here without being noticed, removing the need of his invisibility cloak. He opened the door, stepping into the hallway, immediately noticing something different about the place. He didn’t get to visit the small house his godfather had left him very often; the last visit being about ten months ago, during which he had checked up on Kreacher and the state of the house. Things had been fine, the house being kept in good repair, or as good as could be expected considering Kreacher’s age, as well as the age of the house; dust still clinging to many of the surfaces and carpet. Their attempts to fix the place up over the years had helped, but without spending significant time in the small building they were only temporary fixes to a larger problem.

As such, Harry was very surprised when he took his first steps into the hallway and didn’t see or smell the usual dust puffing up from the carpet as he would walk. The house seemed much lighter than usual as well, as if the grime that seemed to permanently coat the windows had finally been completely removed; the air felt lighter as well, lacking the usual pervasive dust and the ever-present sense of hatred and slew of curses from the hag in the portrait. Harry daresay the small house felt rather cozy.

“Kreacher?” Harry asked cautiously and quietly, poking his head first into the small family room and finding nothing. Though he felt no foreboding sense of danger, Harry still drew his wand, not knowing what to expect as he continued his search. As quietly as he could Harry made his way to the kitchen next. As he approached, he began to hear voices, _What in the bloody hell is going on? Why am I hearing more than one voice?_ He thought in confusion.

Recognizing one of the voices as Kreacher’s, and sensing he wasn’t in any distress he relaxed a bit, but still approached cautiously. Ever since he’d given the house elf the locket he and Dumbledore had risked so much to retrieve, Kreacher had been much more pleasant, and though Harry wasn’t one to jump to conclusions, there was nothing to say that Kreacher might one day revert to his old habits. Harry tentatively placed an ear to the door to the kitchen and tried his best to discern what was being said. He unfortunately had missed the majority of the conversation, but whatever they were talking about, they seemed to be excited.

“...so much about him. Many have said the master is exceedingly kind, is it true?” One voice asked excitedly, the voice sounding feminine and much like an elf.

“It is.” Came the response from Kreacher, “Out of all the masters Kreacher has served master Potter is by far the kindest. I must confess, Kreacher did not believe the master’s kindness at first, thought he was just pretending. Kreacher has served the Blacks his entire life, and only masters Regulus and Sirius had ever shown Kreacher any kindness before.” A small smile came to Harry’s face as he listened, feeling a warmth in his chest as the house elf spoke. He hadn’t been a fan of the elf when he had first met him; his personality back then had left much to be desired, as the elf favored the distasteful habits and vocabulary of the typical stuck-up pureblood families.

Thankfully, over time they had managed to correct many of those habits, but nothing had worked quite as well as giving Kreacher the locket that had belonged to his late master Regulus Black. After showing that bit of kindness to Kreacher, the elf seemed to transform into someone entirely new. He had actually become kind and helpful, even to Hermione whom he had on many occasions before, called a mudblood.

“Kreacher,” Said another voice, this one sounding like a male and also an elf, “I think there’s someone outside the door.” Harry could practically feel them all tense, his eyes opened wide a second before he moved.

He didn’t want them to panic and think they were in danger, so he quickly and loudly said, “Sorry!” Before opening the door, “Not trying to scare you all, I was just surprised when I got here and saw the place was so clean.” He said, waving a hand and glancing around the room at the three house elves he had in the kitchen. The two new house elves stared at him in a kind of shock while Kreacher just grinned.

“Master Potter.” Said Kreacher with a small bow of his head to which Harry returned in kind with a small smile as he gave the two newer elves closer looks.

“Do you mind introducing me to your new friends Kreacher?” Harry asked, but before Kreacher could do anything, the female elf quickly stumbled out of her chair and gave a low bow.

“Master Harry Potter! What an honor it is to meet such a legendary wizard!” Her small voice resembled her small frame, her tiny pointed ears practically vibrating as she shook; whether it was from fear or excitement he really couldn’t tell.

“It’s alright.” Harry said softly as he kneeled in front of the small elf, “You really don’t need to bow.” A bemused look on his face as he offered his hand to the elf. With eyes wide she looked quickly back and forth from Harry’s outstretched hand to Kreacher and back again. She looked both amazed and terrified, unsure exactly how to react. A twang of sorrow swept through him, realizing yet again how frequently wizards had been known to abuse and look down upon magical creatures.

“Do you mind if I ask your name?” He asked softly his hand still held out, waiting for her to take it. When Kreacher nodded for her to take his hand he lightly wrapped his fingers around the small hand and righted her from her bow.

Harry’s emerald eyes held the elf’s large brown ones steady as she finally spoke, her voice practically shaking as she said, “K-kreacher, t-told us of master Harry Potter’s kindness. M-master Harry is truly kind.” Her eyes were tearing up as she spoke, making Harry’s heart throb in pain. He hated seeing anyone cry, especially when knowing where the pain was coming from. He wished he could take it all away, the pain of the entire world; keep anyone from ever feeling broken, alone, separated, or forgotten ever again. But sadly, he knew such a thing was impossible, even for magic.

“I am Clara sir.” The small elf said finally, wiping her eyes and giving him a big smile which he returned kindly.

“It’s very nice to meet you Clara.” He said before turning to look at the other elf. He was slightly larger than Clara was, his ears were pointed like all house elves, but held a bit more of a curve, and his eyes were sapphire blue. He had been sitting rigidly in his chair, with one hand holding on to the table, as if anchoring himself. The elf almost appeared terrified, like he was afraid to even move or be seen.

“And can I ask who you are?” He said softly, afraid to speak any louder feeling like if he did the elf might run in terror. Harry held a warm smile and kind expression in his face, letting the elf know he meant no harm, but inside he held a torrent of rage. In that moment he wanted to know who or what had caused these creatures to fear wizards so much. What horrible families had they been bound to? “It’s okay, I promise I won’t hurt you.” He added, as he looked closer at the elf, his eyes spotting several old bandages on the small creature’s hands and arms. Seeing these wounds, he knew exactly what they were from, and the rage within him wanted to explode. He wanted to curse the people that forced the elf to do this to himself into oblivion.

Harry knew that rage would not help him in this moment so he centered himself, causing the storm of anger within him to finally slow down, eventually dissipating like the end of a hurricane; the clouds of fury giving way to rays of warmth. It seemed that the elf could sense something about his internal change, loosening his grip on the table and relaxing his frame.

 _Can he sense emotions?_ Harry speculated. It wouldn’t be completely unheard of, after all, magical creatures possessed a slew of unique abilities that wizards and witches could never have. That would also explain how the elf had noticed Harry outside of the door, when it otherwise should have been impossible. He hadn’t really thought about it at first, just thinking he might have made some sort of sound or something, but he hadn’t. Harry brushed that thought aside for the moment, deciding that making the elf feel comfortable was more important.

Finally, the small elf began to move, apparently sensing that Harry genuinely meant what he had said, “Abram sir. I’m Abram, the house elf.” His voice sounded so small, quiet and fragile, like it could break at the slightest abrupt movement or gesture. Harry could feel his eyes stinging as he held back tears. He had never met anyone that seemed so terrified just from the mere prospect of speaking, as if they had been trained to never speak out of turn, for fear of retribution. Harry reckoned that last bit probably wasn’t too far off the mark.

He had to clear his throat before he responded, “It’s very nice to meet you as well Abram.” He tried to convey through those words his hope that Abram was free of whatever family had done this to him. He believed he was at least a little successful, as he watched the elf’s eyes and mouth tremble a bit. Harry swallowed a bit, trying to keep his composure as he turned to look at Kreacher, “Kreacher,” He said, drawing the older elf’s eyes towards him, “Can you tell me how we came to accommodate our new guests?”

“Of course sir. It was while Kreacher was out running errands a few days ago.” The elf said, speaking in his usual slow pace, “I came across these two rummaging through the garbage in Diagon Alley, near one of the shops I was visiting. I approached them, but before I could say anything, they ran, but I chose to follow them. Fear not though master, I managed to follow them without spilling any of the produce.” Harry’s face broke into a smile, leave it to a house elf to be just as worried about continuing their duties while also in a pursuit.

“It took a while, but Kreacher managed to finally corner them, and explain I wasn’t actually chasing them.”

 _Even though he technically was._ Harry thought with a smirk. “I bet they didn’t see it that way though.” He said with a chuckle.

“We thought he was somehow affiliated with our late masters.” Clara said, cutting a look towards Kreacher, “He just started walking towards us without saying anything, and he looked so angry.” Harry had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. He could understand exactly why, seeing as the elf always seemed to possess the resting bitch face, as the American’s called it.

“So who used to be your masters?” Harry asked, looking from Clara to Abram, “Did you both serve the same family?”

“No.” Clara said, “We served different families, but both of our families followed You-Know-Who. And after you defeated him, all of our masters were either killed in the battle, or imprisoned and we were freed of our contracts to those families. But,”

“You didn’t know what to do.” Harry finished for the small elf, watching her nod in agreement. He wasn’t surprised, a house elf’s near entire existence is built around serving wizarding families, or just wizards and witches in general. Without that purpose, he could understand how lost they might feel, then ultimately resort to living off the streets, not knowing what else to do.

“After Kreacher discovered they no longer had families to serve, Kreacher figured they could come back here and help clean the place up for master Potter.” Kreacher said after Harry finished.

Harry smiled, looking to the three house elves he had in front of him before looking back to Kreacher, “Thank you for helping them, and showing them such kindness Kreacher, I really appreciate it. And I think Regulus would be proud as well.”

The small elderly elf gave his best smile before saying, “Thank you master.”

“You’ve all certainly done a marvelous job cleaning the place up, I don’t…actually, no, I know it hasn’t looked this good in ages, despite Kreacher’s best efforts.” This perked the lot of them up, receiving smiles from all three elves. “And as a result, I would like to give the two of you a gift.” Both Clara and Abram looked at him curiously, obviously never having been given gifts before.

Harry reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and withdrew his wand. He knew he would likely see some kind of reaction from the two of them, but it still made his heart lurch to watch as both Clara and Abram tensed at seeing the wand, and Abram nearly fell off his chair, “It’s alright,” He said quickly, holding his other hand up and looking to the two of them, “I promise I’m not going to hurt you. I give you my word.”

Harry watched as the two of them slowly untensed, Abram much more slowly than Clara, but still stayed in his chair. “Abram, can you please come stand by Clara?” Abram looked worried still, but little by little he inched himself off the chair and finally made his way over to the slightly smaller female elf. “Now I promise, this won’t hurt. Take a deep breath,” He said, motioning for them to inhale, “And then breathe out, letting your tension flow out.” He said, motioning again for them to follow his instructions.

“For this to work best, I need the two of you to try and be as relaxed as possible.” When it looked like they had managed to relax as best they could he said, “You ready?” A small smile on his face as they both nodded slightly. After giving his own nod, he began waving his wand slowly through the air in smooth motions, his wand leaving a trail of warm pale light, flecks of iridescent light swirling in the trail his wand left. The two elves and Kreacher all looked at the spell in awe as the light draped over Clara and Abram, swathing them in a cloak of warm glowing magic.

Again, and again Harry glided his wand through the air over and around the two small elves, the warm glow seeping into their skin and radiating through them. When Harry was finally done and lowered his wand, he watched as both Clara and Abram’s eyes widened and they gasped. Looking down at their bodies, the two small elves realized exactly what Harry had done for them. All of their bandages, large and small; all of their bruises, scars, cuts and injuries, they were all gone. He had healed them of their injuries, both old and new.

It was extremely advanced magic, and something he had only learned a few years ago, but realized it would likely be very useful to know in a pinch. What with his history and all, he really should have learned that kind of magic much sooner. He had to sit back on the actual floor as the drain of such a powerful healing spell hit him, propping himself up with his left hand, taking a deep breath and exhaling in a puff, his cheeks inflating and deflating.

“Master, you…” Abram started to say, eyes wide as he looked down at his hands and arms, still not quite believing what he was seeing.

“I figured,” Harry said before taking another deep breath, “After all the obvious horrible treatment you had received at the hands of wizards, it was time you finally received some kindness. So, I healed all of your wounds and scars.” The two house elves looked to each other in amazement, their eyes watering as they smiled then hugged each other, both dropping to the ground and laughing. It warmed him to see such happiness come from creatures that had previously known little more than hatred and discrimination from his kind.

“T-t-thank you so m-much, master Harry.” Clara said through her tears of joy, still hugging Abram tight.

“Yes, thank you master.” Abram added, a small smile touching his face as he turned his bright sapphire eyes towards Harry.

“Any time.” Harry said with a smile, taking another deep breath he exhaled as he pulled himself up off the ground and stretched, relieving some of the soreness that had crept into his legs from kneeling for so long. “By the way Kreacher,” He said, turning to the older elf, “I had originally come here to ask you a question.” This perked the elf’s curiosity, his head tilting slightly.

“What is it master Potter?” He asked as he gingerly climbed down from his chair and made his way over to Harry. He had been trying to think of how best to ask the elf what he needed, but seeing as he himself still didn’t know what exactly it was he was looking for, he just stood there quietly as he tried to usher his thoughts. When he continued to just stand there, Kreacher seemed to get a bit worried.

“Master?” The old elf asked, his expression furrowing into concern for a moment, the two younger elves taking note of Kreacher’s concern and looking up at Harry with worried eyes.

“I’m looking…for a spell.” He started, eyes wandering around the small kitchen as he tried to phrase the question as best he could, seeing as he didn’t even really know what to look for. His gaze settled back on Kreacher as he continued, “Or,” Harry’s eyes wandered upwards briefly as he thought of the word, following nothing more than his gut instinct, “Ritual of sorts.”

This request seemed to put the elderly house elf’s nerves on end slightly, the warm gaze he’d had previously shifting to apprehension, “What kind of ritual does the master seek?” Came the elf’s tense question after a moment’s hesitation. Kreacher instinctually knew what it was that Harry was referring to, even if the wizard himself did not. It was a place he very rarely ever stepped foot in to, even when his late masters had been alive. That room was filled to the brim with books sporting all manner of ancient, forgotten, and mostly evil magic; a veritable treasure trove of deadly spells.

The Black’s, being one of the oldest bloodlines in the wizarding world had managed to stockpile all of their spell books housing their most lethal and vicious spells and rituals over the years, culminating in an impressive yet horrific collection of dark magic. The books radiated power, oozing vile intent so wretched and thick, it often felt like ghostly talons were raking at your lungs with each gasping breath; voices whispering sweetly in your ear, threatening the most sickening and bone chilling fates on all those you loved; ghastly bone-chilling laughs sending shivers down your spine and raising goosebumps over every inch of your frame, all from merely stepping foot in the room.

Nearly every single book in that room was pure evil, plain and simple. They could contain nothing that his master could possibly want right? He was a creature of light and goodness, had sacrificed himself over and over for his loved ones. Though Kreacher could tell that a few facets of his master’s being were not entirely opposed to using dark spells in dire circumstances, they were far from his first choice.

But what good did trying to convince him of his master’s intentions do him? Perhaps he was overthinking things? All of these suspicions and questions passed through his head in a blur, the overlapping murmur of questions and concern like a jostled cup of water, were summarily calmed with a few simple words, “Relax Kreacher,” Harry had said after seeing how his question had worried the elf. His simple and calm words like heavy drops in an aggravated pond, sending ripples of calm over the surface to quell the waves. “I’m not looking for anything dark. I just need a way of permanently hiding some powerful items. And I need it to be thorough enough that they won’t be able to be found again. By _anyone_. I’ve never bothered to really look around in here, or ever had a need to ask Sirius, so I don’t even know if my hunch is right, but given the Black’s history I thought they might have some type of collection of books that might _possibly_ help me?” His words weren’t very convincing to his own ears, genuinely thinking this was a long shot, his shoulders shrugging on the word ‘possibly’, while his brows gave away his own lack of faith in his search.

He wasn’t faking any of it, all he had to go on was his gut right now, having completely abandoned logic before coming here. His search probably wasn’t the sanest thing he’d ever done, but neither was it the most reckless, and his gut had more than proven itself to be plenty trustworthy several times in the past. Which was why he was doing his best not to judge himself too harshly right now, and only marginally succeeding.

“Master speaks of a room that is hidden well.” Kreacher started tepidly, Harry’s eyes widening slightly at hearing this, but quickly narrowed in concern hearing how Kreacher spoke of the place. “It’s a dark, _evil_ place master. Kreacher has only ever stepped foot in that room three times while serving the Black’s. The world grows dim, all hope and warmth leave your body,” As Kreacher spoke, he got chills; a shiver down his spine, matched with goosebumps covering his body, his hair standing on end while he listened to the grave words of the elf. Kreacher was anything but a joker, he was entirely serious, “The air freezes and burns your lungs, the eviscerating darkness from the books fills the air and claws at your insides, chilling you to the core. Voices will whisper in your ear, sounding sweet to the master, until you hear what they’re actually saying, threatening your loved ones in the cruelest manner imaginable.”

Harry shivered slightly as he compared what Kreacher was talking about to being in the presence of a Dementor. But that really shouldn’t worry him too much, what with his Patronus and all, surely it would be enough to protect him while in that room. “I understand Kreacher, but do you think this room you speak of, will carry something like what I’m looking for?” The elf nodded solemnly in response but said nothing at first.

Finally, after a momentary pause, the elf said, “Out of the hundreds of books in that room master, only a handful do not deal in evil magic. Out of those there are three that possess the kind of magic that the master is searching for.” Kreacher stepped forward, his face stern, “If master truly intends to enter that room, he must remember to never falter. Hold strong to your light, relish in trusted and strong bonds of your loved ones. Do not let the darkness overtake your mind, and especially, your heart.” Harry swallowed hard as he listened, this room definitely sounded like bad news, like Voldemort level bad news, but he wasn’t entirely surprised that the Black’s had a room like what Kreacher was describing, what with their devout worship of the tyrant and all. Sirius and Regulus being the only decent wizards to be produced from their family in generations.

“There are dozens of rows of bookshelves in that room, but the books are not organized, they take on lives of their own, and shelve themselves wherever they please. You’ll have to find the books yourself, Kreacher cannot step back into that room master. The three times he did in the past, Kreacher almost died.” Harry’s eyes widened at that news, was this room really _that_ bad? Knowing his luck, and that nothing in his life was ever easy, the obvious answer was, yes. He was beginning to wonder if his patronus really would be enough. He had no way of knowing for sure until he tried, but he would just have to hope for now.

Over the next few minutes Kreacher tried to remember the name of the authors that wrote the books he would be looking for, and what the titles of those books were. Kreacher wasn’t entirely sure if what he remembered was correct, but Harry figured if all else failed, he would at least be able to sense which books were correct. Seeing as these were the only books not exuding evil in that room, then it should be easy to determine which ones were right. He would of course just prefer Kreacher to come with him, but refused to make the elf endure that pain anymore.

With the names written down on a simple piece of parchment, Harry and the elves all make their way to the boiler room which Kreacher had made his official room. Harry noticed several things that were different than how he remembered. Where once there had been a simple pallet next to the boiler, Kreacher had an actual cot now. There was a small dresser next to the cot, housing what Harry could only assume were some extra rags for the elf. Harry had wondered if it had only been his imagination, but it did seem that Kreacher was actually wearing rags that weren’t so disgusting and rundown. He had informed the elf many times over that if he wished he could buy himself some proper clothes with the allowance he afforded the elf while he was away. But like so many other elves he denied the offer, saying it wasn’t proper for him to do so.

There were many other simple differences in the room, little knick-knacks and baubles sparsely decorating the otherwise completely bare boiler room. Harry smiled softly but made no mention to Kreacher of how happy he was that the elf seemed to be doing well. They stopped in front of the wall opposite the boiler while Kreacher stepped forward, placing one of his small elf hands on the cement wall. Harry looked around but didn’t see any sign of a door or entryway anywhere in the room; no drafts of air, no creases, handles or hinges. He was worried at first, but kept it to himself, seeing as Kreacher seemed to look like he knew what he was doing.

A few seconds later Kreacher pressed harder on the wall, causing a rectangular portion of the wall surrounding the elf’s hand to recede into the wall a few inches. After the receding block stopped moving, a large section of the wall a few feet to its right disappeared, revealing the entryway to the room they had been discussing, but Harry still looked concerned, “I don’t see anything.” Harry said, turning to Kreacher in confusion. All that the new entryway had revealed was a door-sized rectangle of solid black.

“I don’t understand Kreacher, where’s the room.” Kreacher looked unamused as he pointed to the large rectangle of solid black.

“It’s through there master. That is the physical manifestation of the books’ darkness. It fills the entire room, but wards prevent the mist from spilling out.” Harry’s brows lifted as he looked back to the blackness. Upon looking closer he realized that the blackness was actually moving; swirling tendrils of black mist pressed against and bounced off slightly from the invisible wards.

Harry stepped forward, stopping directly in front of the doorway. After a moments hesitation he began stretching his hand out and then stopping barely an inch away from the invisible ward. He still felt nothing. Steeling himself, he took a breath then passed his hand through the ward and into the black mist. The reaction was instant: the slowly moving tendrils of black mist began viciously swirling around his hand and freezing it to the bone. It felt like razors of ice were stabbing every cell of his hands, slicing it to the bone and raking under his nails. He blanched quickly and yanked his hand back, gripping his right wrist with his left hand and gasped as he stared at his hand. There were actual visible scrapes on his hand though small, and wisps of fog lifting from his hand.

“Okay, this might be a bit harder than I thought.” He said as his chest quickly rose and fell, his eyes cut to Kreacher, “You also didn’t mention anything about being able to be physically harmed while in there.” Kreacher’s face did look apologetic as he looked back up to Harry.

“They never had before, master. The most they had done to Kreacher before was chill him. It looks like the energy from the books has grown stronger. Kreacher is afraid master Harry might not be able to do this alone.” Kreacher said, looking truly sorry, but Harry just shook his head.

“It’s alright Kreacher, but I have to do this alone. I can’t let anybody else find out what I’m doing. It’s _extremely_ important that no one else is involved in this.” Kreacher nodded as Harry finished. Harry took a deep breath glancing back to the doorway. He knew that his patronus wasn’t going to be enough, but that it would definitely help, so first he cast an impervious charm on himself, knowing that would alleviate some of the chill. He then added a heat charm to the air around himself, giving himself a small radius of warmth, and finally he cast his patronus. The room filled with bright white light as the stag appeared, bathing them in its warm glow and waves of kindness, love, and light. All three elves stared at it in awe, their faces relaxing in peace in the presence of the patronus.

“Alright,” Harry said, looking to the three elves, “I’ll try to make this quick.” He looked to the swirling black mist behind the ward and steeled himself, willing his patronus to begin walking through the doorway. Waves of energy began pulsing from the stag as it passed the invisible ward banishing the mist and clearing the way for Harry as he followed through.

When Harry crossed the ward, he was instantly bombarded by waves of vile intent, droplets of dew forming in his warming charm, the freezing mist melting as it tried to reach him. His impervious charm pulsing as the invisible waves of hatred attempted to cripple him, the majority of the ethereal anger being swept away by his patronus.

His combination of charms and patronus seemed to be holding up fairly well, but Harry knew he wouldn’t be able to keep this up for too long due to the constant onslaught of vile intent from all sides. He would need to try and find these books quickly. However, “This might take a while.” Harry said, as he stared around him, his mouth slightly open, and brows arched as he took in the sheer size of the room. It was massive, easily equaling half the size of the entire library at Hogwarts. If he had to guess, there were a good thirty-plus book shelves in this room, each one twice his height and almost twenty feet long.

On top of that, he could see dozens of books scattered on the floor throughout each of the aisles; the lamps along each of the walls lighting up as he crossed the doorway, shedding weak flickering light on his daunting task.

“How the _bloody hell_ am I supposed to find three simple books in all this rubbish?” He asked to no one in particular, absentmindedly wiping away some of the dew drops that just formed on his cheek. He turned up the heat on his warming charm and extended its reach, encompassing a good five feet on each side. He couldn’t risk turning the heat up too high for fear of possibly damaging some of the books. Though he held no love for the books and the dark spells they housed, it was the fear of retaliation. They housed enough negative energy within them to actually physically affect people, just by existing. No telling what they could do if he harmed them, and he also didn’t want to risk doing harm to the house.

As he progressed through the large room, Harry caught sight of actual physical manifestations of the books’ will; black thorned vines creeping over the shelves, walls, and floor. Sickening black ooze swelling up and over the shelves, letting heavy drops of the wretched goo splatter down and coat the spines of other disgusting books. He even began to see what looked like streaks of blood on the sides of the book shelves, left by fingers. But that shouldn’t be possible.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement. Harry quickly snapped his head to the left and pointed his wand, the tip illuminated with a quickly muttered lumos, “Who’s there?” He asked the room at large, but nothing answered. He began to hear snickering. The sounds of several children laughing and playing lightly echoing around the edges of the aisle he was in. Harry walked to the edge of the aisle, looking around him to see if he saw anyone, but as he expected, found nothing.

He then felt a tug at the sleeve of his jacket. Looking down he saw that one of the vines’ thorns had caught on the elbow of his sleeve. He figured he must have just stepped a little to close the shelf and lightly tugged his sleeve free of the vine. Harry then saw in the dim light, the same black goo covering half of his shoes.

 _What?_ He thought in confusion, _That shouldn’t be possible._

He hadn’t stepped very close to the shelves, his shoes barely even pressing down half an inch into the puddles that had formed. How then had the vile substance managed to almost completely cover his shoe.

_Harry_

At the sound of his name he looked up quickly, spotting a pair of glowing red eyes staring at him through the shelf from the other aisle, “What?!” He said, his eyes widening, stepping back quickly from the shelf and bumping into the one behind him. He blinked, and the eyes were gone. Harry felt pressure on his right shoulder, making him look and sending violent chills down his body as he saw pale white fingers dripping the same black goo, beginning to creep over his shoulder. The nails were cracked and overgrown, the skin nearly translucent and cracked, dried blood caking the surface and black ooze smeared all over the hand, and now onto his jacket.

He was shaking, his heart beating like a drum as he tried to quickly scramble away. Another vine had completely grown down the sleeve of his left arm, ripping the fabric as he pulled away. He panted heavily, tasting sweat and dew. He was nearly drenched from all the freezing air droplets that had been melted by his warming charm. His eyes quickly searching around him for any other signs of movement.

_Harry_

His name was practically whispered in his left ear, he snapped his head to the left, but saw no one. However, out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed those same red eyes. As soon as he blinked though, they were gone. Replaced by the sounds of children laughing again. He heard what sounded like bare footsteps coming from a nearby aisle. But as soon as he approached and looked, there was no one, just more of the same black vines and ooze.

He hadn’t realized, but his patronus and his charms had began weakening, the light and heat slowly becoming weaker, eventually causing his breath to form fog, tiny scrapes now forming on his hands, arms, and face. He hadn’t noticed them yet though, still busy trying to find what was causing these sounds and movements.

The sweet-sounding childish laughs getting louder as he stumbled outside the aisles, wiping his wand around every which way as he tried to find the source. He tried and failed to calm himself, his heart pounding a tattoo against his ribs, his breath forming rapid puffs of air.

Harry heard the sound of bare feet quickly approaching from behind. He spun around so quickly he almost stumbled, his feet splattering in another puddle of the black ooze, which shouldn’t have even made it where he stood outside the aisles, a good seven feet away. As he turned around, he saw that yet again, nothing was there.

 _HARRY!_ This previous whisper came as a shout this time, and from behind him. As he rotated again, he flailed backwards with a yell of terror. Directly in front of him stood Bellatrix Lestrange, in all her horrific glory, just as he remembered. He felt his heart leap into his throat, he couldn’t swallow, he couldn’t breathe. His charms and patronus were all but completely gone. Harry’s skin felt like it was made completely of ice, the dew and his sweat now freezing to his skin, his arms and legs felt completely numb, his mind going blank.

In that moment, all logic had left him. It didn’t matter that he already knew to expect all these things, and that he definitely knew Bellatrix was in fact dead. He was too terrified, faced with one of the worst nightmares he had ever met. The psychotic woman’s face split into that terrifying smile she used; plenty of black teeth showing in her too wide smile, her wild bushy black hair swimming around her head as she held her arms wide, “Why Harry, it’s been too long.”

Her face instantly switched to that putrid pout she used, “What’s wrong wittle Hawwy?” She said in a pouty voice, gliding closer to him. He frantically tried to scramble backwards, his hands and feet slipping on the icy ground. Suddenly Bellatrix instantly appeared in front of him, cold clammy hands grabbed his face, hers twisting with rage as she screamed, “WHAT’S WRONG HARRY?!” Her face flickered like a tv switching channels, features changing from rage to her vile attempt at looking sincerely kind as she said, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Get AWAY!!” Harry yelled, swiping his wand upward, flames trailing in its wake, ripping straight through the empty space where Bellatrix had just been. The bright fire emitted from his wand quickly illuminated the area around him and reveled a form slowly walking towards him, “Who are you?!” He asked breathlessly to no response. As he scrambled back up to his feet, he illuminated the area around him again, and to his horror realized the person walking towards him was Cedric, but where his pupils should have been, were completely blank white eyes.

He was an Inferius. The black ooze smeared down from the top of his head and over his bare frame. Harry sensed more movement around him. Glancing to his sides he realized that more bodies were slowly forming out of the horrible black substance, their pale dead hands scraping at the floor, trying to pull themselves out of the pools of ooze.

He blinked, and the scene around him changed. He was no longer in that horrible room, but instead was back on that small island, surrounded by a swarm of inferi. The reanimated dead bodies slowly surging forward, trying to kill him. He felt an icy cold grasp on his arm. He turned to look, his eyes wide with horror as a dead Dumbledore, with pale white eyes, reached up from a black puddle to yank him down.

“NO!!” He screamed as he numbly wrenched his arm free and stepped backwards. A mixture of the terrifying laugh of children swelled up once more around him, but this time interwoven with the hideous cackling of Bellatrix Lestrange. He was back in the room, but was seeing more and more inferi made of his lost loved ones creeping up through the ground, slowly surrounding him.

Harry was beyond panic stricken, heavy tears streamed down his face, leaving trails of ice on his cheeks, his chest rising and falling so quickly, he was on the verge of hyperventilation. Before he could do or say anything else, cold dead hands slammed into his shoulders and spun him around quickly and gripped them again stopping him. Bellatrix Lestrange was back, fixing him with a vicious grin, “What’s wrong,” She said snidely, “Aren’t you happy to see your wuved ones again?” Her face contorting once more into that sickening pout of hers. And like before, her features instantly shifted, flickering from pouting to an absolutely vicious snarl, and screaming in his face, “DON’T YOU WANT TO _JOIN_ THEM?!” Her voice escalating to a screech at the end.

She struck his stomach with a dead clawed hand, her jagged cracked nails piercing his flesh and freezing him to the core. He couldn’t move. His charms and patronus had completely sputtered out moments ago. Every inch of his skin felt like it was made of ice, and his body felt like it weighed twice what it did. His lungs felt like they were freezing over, his breathing coming slow and heavy. Harry tried in vain to fight the woman off, but as soon as he moved his arm, she swatted away his wand and let him fall to the ground.

Harry tried to move away from the vile woman, but he found his movement restricted as a black thorned vine wound its way around one ankle, and the inferius Dumbledore had a hold of the other, “Let go!” He said feebly, trying to yell but barely managing to even talk, his lungs feeling like they were made of ice; frozen blood coating his lips, and most of his exposed skin from the countless cuts.

He tried to will away this horrible situation, trying to tell himself it was just an illusion, but he knew better. He had no strength left, no will to fight this nightmare. He was surrounded by the reanimated dead bodies of all those he’d loved and lost; Cedric, Lupin, Tonks, George, Dumbledore, and several others all staring at him with dead white eyes, all while he was being tormented and tortured by the most psychotic witch he’d ever met. This was too much for him.

Bellatrix instantly disappeared and reappeared kneeling at his side, “Now this takes me back.” She said as her twisted seductive glance traveled down his body, “I had your mudblood friend held just like this before. You remember don’t you?” She said, in reference to when they had been captured so many years ago, held at the Malfoy manner, and during their captivity, forced to hear the screams of Hermione while this psycho tortured her.

“She had the loveliest screams I’d ever heard.” Her face twisting in vile ecstasy as she dragged her jagged nails down his chest, ripping his shirt and drawing blood where her nails cut deep enough. “I much rather would have had you be the one there. Oh, we would have had so much fun!” Her eyes wide and pale face flushed as she dug her nails in his side, wrenching a scream from him.

He tried weakly to get away, to pull himself out from under her, but it was pointless. He could feel the tip of his wand barely within the reach of his fingertips, but he knew it probably wouldn’t help him. Even if he could get a hold of his wand, she would just knock it away. However, he still tried. He had to do something, even though this simple motion of attempting to grab his wand was exhausting. He managed little by little while she was talking to pull the wand closer, he could only use the tips of his fingers at first, and it took a few tries to grab it without sending it farther away.

Just as she dug her nails into his side, making him scream in pain, he had finally gotten a good hold of his wand. But as he had feared and known, as soon as he brought his wand up to try and cast a spell at her she grabbed his wrist, “Oh now now now.” She said with an amused expression and pursed lips, her face contorting with rage next as she spat out, “NONE OF THAT!!!” Sending flecks of spit over his face, the liquid freezing to his skin in seconds. Her wide rage-filled eyes mere inches from his face now, “And here we were having such a good time, then you have to go and RUIN IT!!!” She yelled, her voice ending in a screech again, screaming directly into his ear, making Harry wince. Bellatrix had also gripped his wrist so tight it felt like she was about to break it, her nails cutting into the thin flesh, his blood freezing as it streaked down his arm.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t fight anymore. His strength was entirely gone. His will entirely drained. The world around him growing dim. The weak fires along the walls sputtering pathetically, some already completely out. The dark room muddled into formless blurs in his vision. Harry could feel his heart slowing, trying its best to pump what felt like frozen blood through his veins. His lungs felt almost completely stiff as it took almost every last ounce of energy just to take a single breath.

A single thought passed through his head as the world turned to black, _So this is how I die? Pathetic._ He was almost kind of glad no one else had been around to see how pathetic he’d been. He should have expected some kind of trick like this. And here Harry thought he’d managed to get over these memories. But here they all were, his worst memories; enemies, and loved ones lost that he hadn’t apparently completely dealt with like he thought, literally torturing him now.

Leave it to the magical world to find a way to kill him with nothing more than baggage. _Merlin this is so pathetic._ He thought, and for the first time in a long time Harry felt rage. True rage. He felt it boiling from his very core, and though it didn’t help him completely recover, he did feel a slight spark of strength return to his limbs.

 _Fuck this, I’m not done._ He tried to use a warming charm just on his insides, attempting a hail marry pass as the American’s called it, and it actually worked. He managed to send a wave of heat through his body, and with that simple spell he felt a hundred times better, but also worse as his numb body now felt every single scrape, cut, and bruise. However, his adrenaline was pumping now, allowing him to temporarily overcome the pain.

This had all happened in the course of a few seconds, Bellatrix unaware of what Harry was actually doing, kept cooing the horrible things she would do to his loved ones once she was out of that room. He continued to warm his insides, while overlapping the spell with a simple healing spell. Most of his injuries really weren’t that serious, but there were a lot of cuts on him now, and he needed to stop the bleeding. Thankfully the simplest of healing spells would work fine, so he didn’t need to worry about draining an excessive amount of strength.

Just as he could feel a decent amount of his energy return, he heard her whisper in his ear, “And then, when I’m finished bloodying you up and have had my fun, I’m gonna make my way to that little mudblood friend of yours, and I’m gonna kill all of her filthy muggle family. And once I’ve had my fun with _that_ , and of course have made sure she’s watched the whole thing, then I’ll end her _worthless_ mudblood life. And who knows, I think after that, I’ll make my way to that redhead friend of yours. He has plenty of family, it’ll take _ages_ to torture them all. It’ll be so much fun!”

It literally felt like fire was coursing through his entire body, the rage within him burning white-hot as he listened to her words. When he had managed to mostly patch himself up without her noticing, he then swiftly spun his wand around in his hand while she still had a hold of his wrist, and held his wand like a knife as if he were about to stab her.

She still hadn’t noticed. Too engrossed in her horrendous fantasies.

When she finished, Harry’s face twisted in a snarl, his eyes flew open in rage as he stuck her with a murderous gaze, “The fuck you will bitch. Bombarda MAXIMA!” He spat the spell out with that same snarl, blasting the area in front of him with a full-strength explosion spell. Sadly, she managed to disappear just before he finished the spell, and instead it barreled through a nearby bookshelf, sending debris flying everywhere. He didn’t care.

He enveloped himself in flames next, burning away the vines and hands that pinned him down, making the inferi flee in terror. Harry stood while the flames circled around his body, “You’re through fucking with me Bellatrix.” He said as he released the flames. Harry sensed her appear behind him, but he was faster, sending a blast of fire behind him after tucking his arm around his side. She screamed and crashed into one of the shelves.

Harry didn’t let up. He still radiated rage and fury, and he let it all out under a relentless assault of spells and curses, “YOU’RE THROUGH FUCKING WITH ME!!!” He roared as he sent her crashing through another bookshelf, blasting her with more fire and explosions before sending her tattered form flying towards himself. And with the surge of adrenaline, he caught her by the throat when she came close enough, stopping her progress and then slammed her into the ground, “And you’re through fucking with my family bitch.” He said as he kneeled over her form, hand crushing her throat as he gazed coldly down at her, his wand mere inches from her face. The tip began glowing as he prepared one last spell, planning on blasting her head off with fire.

Harry had just been about to mutter the final spell that would ultimately destroy his most hated enemy when he felt a small hand grasp his wrist. His head snapped towards the creature responsible for trying to stop him, eyes filled with icy rage as he tried to recognize who it was, “No master, please. Don’t do this.” Abram said solemnly.

“What are you doing here?!” He spat out, his rage still coursing through him, his body was shaking with the effort to control himself.

“Please master Harry, this is not the way to vanquish your enemies.” His head quickly turned to take in Clara now as she spoke, having appeared on his other side. She was holding a small hand up in the air, covering them in a small protective dome of heat, doing her best to keep any more of the incarnations from approaching.

“This is what it wants. It wants master to cross this line. If master does, it will have succeeded in corrupting him.” Abram said, continuing to keep a hold of Harry’s wrist. He was breathing heavily, feeling his anger starting to wane as he looked from Abram to Clara.

“If master does this, then it wins.” She was crying once more, and Harry could tell her magic was barely keeping the dark intent at bay. His wand was wavering as his gaze settled back down on the battered face of Bellatrix, or rather, the corporeal incarnation of Bellatrix Lestrange; the physical manifestation of Harry’s most hated and feared adversary. He had hated Voldemort of course, but he had learned so much of the monster, and had even come to understand what had caused the tyrant to become what he did.

In the end, Harry had felt more pity for the monster than hatred. But she was another thing entirely. She was evil through and through, and absolutely psychotic. Worse, she had no real reason to be that way, no justification for her vile chaotic nature and disgusting twisted desires. She took immense pleasure in the suffering and pain of others, all for nothing more than errant entertainment. And of course, she had personally killed his godfather; laughing and shouting ‘I killed Sirius! I killed Sirius!’ afterwards as Harry chased her.

One of his many regrets after the battle at Hogwarts, was that he hadn’t been the one to personally put an end to her chaos. But he took some solace in knowing that it had been Molly to do it. She had also suffered some heavy losses during the fights with Voldemort, and had barely managed to save her daughter from the psycho.

“How then?” Harry asked, finally lowering his wand, looking back to Abram, “What should I do? How do I beat it?” Abram lifted one of his small hands, gently placing the tips of his tiny fingers on the side of Harry’s head. He felt warmth as a small orb of blue light appeared in Abram’s palm and then sank into Harry’s head. The next second he heard Abram’s voice whispering in his head.

 _You don’t kill this enemy, you banish it. Rid the veil, our realm of its vile existence master. Use the spell I’ve just given you. It was one of many that my first master had learned, and I had had the pleasure of watching him use. It’s not enough to just say the words of this spell master, you must feel in in your very core. Focus on your righteous anger, your love and kindness towards others. Your desire to see them safe an unharmed. This vile creature wishes to take away more than just your life, it wants to leave you battered and broken, contaminating everything pure and good about you. It does not_ belong _here._

Harry had closed his eyes while he listened to Abram’s voice in his head, his words of encouragement and confidence still ringing clearly after he removed his tiny fingers and stepped back. “Do it master.” Came Abram’s voice, clear and confident as he looked up into Harry’s eyes, a soft smile touching his lips.

“You need merely grip your wand tight and place your fist over your heart, then lay your free hand over the other. Bow your head, then speak.” Harry nodded then followed suit, finally releasing his grip on Bellatrix’s throat and standing.

“You can release your spell Clara. It’ll be alright.” Harry said looking to Clara with a warm smile. She smiled back up, some tears in her eyes as she lowered her hand and released the dome of warmth she had created.

With their barrier gone, he could feel the darkness attempting to double its assault on them, but it was too late. Harry had already begun. His head bowed, he brought his wand hand up, placing it over his heart and laid his left hand over his right, “I, am light,” Harry said, and as he had been told he focused on every single precious memory he possessed; the times he had laughed himself breathless with his friends and family. Their happy faces as they had played as children, laughed as friends, and overcome adversity as family.

The warmth of his love he held for his friends and family filled his core to the point of overflowing; strengthened by his unwavering desire to always protect them, and iron-clad righteous anger at all those who would do them harm. His body began glowing with golden light as he spoke the first words. The aura of radiant light then shot forth from his body with enough strength and reach to encompass the entire house.

“I am one, too strong to fight.” As he continued the chant, the dark intent and incarnations of evil had been frozen in place, the dome of his spell forbidding movement to all those not of the light. Tendrils of golden light began flowing forth, arching up from the floor at his feet and twining through the numerous bookshelves in the room like golden vines, then surging through the rest of the house.

“Return to dark, where shadows dwell. You shall not claim this hallowed veil.” Iridescent white blossoms began forming along the vines, unfolding like shining glowing roses. From each of the flowers, glowing particles much like dust swirled into the air, guided by a warm breeze; scents of spring flowers like, roses, lilacs, lavenders and countless others filled the room as the breeze wafted the tiny glowing orbs about. The particles rested on every dark book, every black vine, and every vile spot and puddle of the ooze, and every twisted manifestation they produced, coating them like glitter.

“Go now, leave my sight. And take with you, this endless night.” As Harry finished the spell, radiant waves of light flowed from his body, gliding like the Aurora Borealis through the night sky. As the lights touched the glittery orbs, they burst into flames; white shining fire rippling over every dark object and creature in the room, while also silencing whatever protests they might attempt. The flames were not hot, and would never burn those that were not tainted by darkness. Instead, Harry, Abram and Clara were each enveloped in the same warm spring breeze that delivered the orbs to the dark objects. The breeze further protecting them from any remaining mal-intent as it was all purified and burned away.

As the purifying fire settled and blinked out, the golden vines and glowing roses faded away; the glowing dome of the spell slowly receding back into Harry as the warm breeze settled down around them. It had worked, Harry realized with a smile as he glanced around the large, and now almost completely vacant room. Every single book that housed those horrible spells, along with the black vines and ooze, and even the bookshelves had been purified into nothing. Not even ash remained.

“It worked.” Harry said with relief, taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling. “Woa.” He said soon after, bringing a hand up to his head as he tried to steady himself, but failed and clumsily tried to sit down. All of his energy had been drained from him in an instant from the massive spell, and he had very nearly lost consciousness, barely managing to stay awake as he lay on the ground.

“Master, are you alright?!” Came Clara’s panicked voice as she padded over to stand next to him, Abram appearing on his opposite side soon after, also looking concerned.

“Yeah.” He said breathlessly, “That was just one doozy of a spell.” He shifted his eyes to Abram, a soft smile touching his lips, “Thank you Abram. You were right. That’s exactly what was needed. You saved me.” And it was true. Though Harry had been physically okay, he was about to cross a line he swore he never would. And though it wasn’t an actual living person he was about to kill, the intent had been there, and he was on the verge of committing the action. Doing so would have sullied his soul and his mind. That was something he never wanted to do or experience. So in a way, he very much so _had_ been saved by Abram. And Harry knew he would never be able to thank the elf enough.

“I just have to catch my breath for a bit, then I’ll be fine. But at least we don’t have to worry about being in any danger in here anymore.” His eyes were closed as he spoke, letting a smirk appear on his face as he thought back. And though barely ten minutes had passed since he first stepped foot into this room, with everything that had transpired, it felt to him like hours had passed.

Before this intense encounter, Harry believed he’d overcome those demons so to speak; believed those nightmares and memories to be cleansed and left in the past where they belonged. He had convinced himself that they didn’t bother him anymore, but he was very wrong, as the nightmarish figures had just showed him. Hopefully now though he could finally lay them to rest, and move on with his life once and for all.

He heard another set of small feet padding up from behind, “Master?” Kreacher asked, concern clear in his old voice.

“I’m okay Kreacher, just very…” Harry said, taking a deep breath, then sighing as he continued, “Tired. The spell I just used took all of my energy. Just need to rest up for a bit. It worked though.” He said with a smile, “Thanks to Abram, I was able to use a spell that completely banished all the dark energy that had been building up in here.” His smile faltered then as he thought about the repercussions of the spell, realizing he would now have to start his search back over for a way to seal the Hallows.

“Master, what’s wrong?” Kreacher asked, seeing his face turning sad. The other two looked at him then, confused why he would suddenly be sad.

“It’s just, now I have to start my search over. Regardless of what just happened here, I still need to find a way to seal…” He stopped himself, biting his tongue before he could tell them something that may one day prove detrimental for them to know. “The spell I just used got rid of all of the books in here, meaning the books I had actually needed are gone too. And now I have to see if there’s another way, some other place maybe that I can go to, to find the information I need.” He sighed in resignation.

Though to be fair, this really wasn’t that big of a setback. After all, Harry had literally just started his search, and was simply lucky enough that the first place he searched yielded results. Following past examples, this was how his luck usually worked out, so it wasn’t all that shocking or depressing. It just would have been nice to have a lead fully pan out for once, without throwing more kinks into the problem.

“I mean, really?” Harry said to no one in particular, his eyes just staring up at the ceiling, watching shadows thrown from the many candles lining the walls flicker and dance, “Would it be so much to ask for a break? Just one break?” He said, and sighed once more, not noticing that Kreacher had walked away. Heading who knows where, probably just to keep from hearing Harry complain. Harry wouldn’t blame him.

Harry wasn’t one to complain though. To be honest, Harry very rarely complained to anyone about his struggles or problems, his past or his pain. He mostly kept that to himself, occasionally opening up to someone that showed genuine interest or concern, especially when he knew they wouldn’t judge him. Harry wasn’t stupid, he knew very few would actually wrongly judge him, at least those that he kept for company. He still hadn’t forgotten the year the Daily Prophet had spent so many of their resources attempting to completely slander his name in efforts to keep people from believing him and Dumbledore when they told everyone Voldemort had returned.

It hurt. It really hurt to see so many turn against him, especially those he had thought never would. But if anything, that time had shown him who his true friends were; the ones who would stick with him through thick and thin, and wouldn’t hesitate to believe whatever he told them, no matter how horrific, terrifying, or shocking.

No, he certainly wasn’t the type to usually complain, but in that moment, he let himself have this one shred of self-pity. And it kind of felt good. To actually voice his feelings over his shitty luck, and what felt like the never-ending hoops he had to jump through to get what he needed. Why was life so fucking bound and determined to make things so goddamned difficult for him?

A single tear streaked down the side of his cheek as he took a deep shuddering breath, “Master?” Came Abram’s calm questioning tone. He tilted his head slightly to stare at those round sapphire eyes that held no judgment, no sickening level of pity, just a calm determination to let him know that he could feel what Harry was going through, and did not condemn him.

“Master Harry.” This time it was Kreacher who spoke, his voice sounding pretty far away. His tone perked Harry’s interest a bit, it didn’t sound sad or angry, or like he was pitying Harry, but instead almost sounded happy.

“What is it?” Harry asked tiredly, trying to lift his head and glance in the direction Kreacher’s voice was coming from. He couldn’t really see him well, the elf being too far away, but it sounded like the elf was attempting to lift something heavy. He struggled to pull himself up off the ground, eventually rolling over to his side, laboring in the effort it took to simply sit himself up. He blinked some blurriness out of his eyes, even yawning as he shook off another wave of exhaustion, and did his best to focus on Kreacher.

“Master, I think…” Abram started, tilting his head as he tried to make out what Kreacher was holding.

“Are those books?” Clara added, her eyes going wide.

Harry’s head shot from one elf to the other, then back to look at Kreacher making his way towards them, carrying five very thick looking books, all stacked on top of each other. His eyes shot wide open, almost every trace of exhaustion forgotten as he clambered to his feet and clumsily trotted the remaining distance between them and Kreacher. He made it just in time to catch some of the huge books as they started to fall.

“I can’t believe it.” Harry nearly laughed, a genuine smile on his face as Kreacher set the books down with a huff, and Harry returned the two books he’d caught to the top of the stack. The books were thick enough, that when stacked together they nearly stood three feet tall. Harry kneeled and leaned forward on the stack, keeping himself upright through sheer willpower and adrenaline. “Are these really it?”

“They are indeed master. These are the exact books I was telling you about. At least one of these will have the kind of spell or ritual you seek.” Harry chuckled again as he looked down at the books, amazed that they managed to survive the spell, even though he knew it was meant only to banish darkness. He had been afraid that maybe the books could have been tainted by the darkness of the other books, and that they too would then be banished. But they hadn’t, and this news was like a breath of fresh air. For once he didn’t have to jump through hoop after hoop in attempts to get just one thing he needed.

He did have to go through at least one complication, that being the nightmarish incarnation of Bellatrix, who did attempt and very nearly succeeded in killing him. But he was never one to be picky. Just one wrinkle in comparison to dozens was a nice change that he would happily take any day. He took a dep breath, and exhaling he said, “Alright then,” Looking to each of the elves with a smile and turning back to the stack he hefted a couple of the books back in his arms and stood up, turning back towards the doorway. As he began walking at his slow pace, he called back, “Do you two want to grab a couple of those books for Kreacher please?”

It didn’t matter that he was exhausted still. Harry had come here for a purpose, and that purpose was sitting within one of the five books they were all carrying. He at least had a vague idea of what he needed, and now with the books in tow, had the means to make the idea corporeal. He could tell these books were ancient. If there was a spell that could do what he needed, it wasn’t a modern spell, those were far too flimsy and easily outwitted. If Harry had learned anything through all the struggles and battles of his life, it was to never underestimate the power of old magic. After all, it was old magic that had first saved him from Voldemort’s first killing curse. It was old magic that had then saved him from Quirrell. And it was the old magic of Horcruxes that had saved him from Voldemort’s second killing curse. And finally, it was the ancient magic of wand lore and ownership that saved him from Voldemort’s last spell and final killing curse.

He owed his life four times over now to the strength and power of old magic. So, it would be old magic he relied on now to seal away the Hallows. Harry had only one apprehension with using old magic. It was powerful for a reason. And it wasn’t just with old magic, it was any magic really; the more powerful the spell, the greater the cost. It just so happened that most of the more ancient spells tended to require more hefty prices. His mother had to actually willingly give her life to provide him the protection he needed. Harry just hoped that whatever spell or ritual he found, that it wouldn’t require a similar cost.

With a determined smile, and elves in tow, Harry wandered back into the kitchen where he set the heavy books down on the table with a deep thud, then turned to assist each of the elves with placing the other books on the table. With all five dictionary-sized books laid on the table, Harry clapped his hands together once before rubbing them a few times quickly, glancing over at the elves, “Alright, who’s ready to do some reading?”

Harry chuckled as he thought about how Hermione would react if she had heard him say that. She’d probably die of a heart attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? :)
> 
> I'm not entirely sure why the extra note is showing up on this chapter, or if maybe it's just showing up for me, I'm thoroughly confused. That note was supposed to appear at the end of chapter 2. But, meh. It is what it is.
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading, leaving kudos, bookmarking etc. I really appreciate it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you everyone for the kudos, bookmarks and comments. I really appreciate everyone taking the time to read the story. I'm currently working on chapter three. I would have made more progress than I have but work was taking up a lot of my time. It's my hope to have chapter three up sometime next week.


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